


Just looking for a protector.

by pyreios



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angst with a Hopeful Ending, Blue Hawke, Blue-Purple Hawke, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fenris Needs a Hug, Fenris is Bad at Feelings, Hopeful Ending, I love my boys, M/M, Purple Hawke, allen this is for you, alot of fenris introspection?, no revision or beta reading we die like men, this was supposed to be all happy where did i go wrong
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-11
Packaged: 2019-04-21 10:23:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14282868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pyreios/pseuds/pyreios
Summary: He should be moving, should be tracking and trailing and running, counting down the days until he can see mischievous smiles and mirthful eyes and black curly hair that he could spend years touching and brushing and braiding.And yet he’s stuck here. Staring at a dead fire pit as the glowing ashes threaten to catch on Hawke’s silk favor, his silk favor unable to move because the reality of things is there's a million and one ways Hawke could be dead from his journey to Weisshaupt, and a million and one reasons why Hawke left without telling him.





	Just looking for a protector.

The embers lit his red silk like reminiscent fire, soot catching in the upturned palms of his hands as he stares. He should be moving, should be tracking and trailing and running, counting down the days until he can see mischievous smiles and mirthful eyes and black curly hair that he could spend years touching and brushing and braiding.

  
And yet he’s stuck here. Staring at a dead fire pit as the glowing ashes threaten to catch on Hawke’s silk favor, his silk favor unable to move because the reality of things is there's a million and one ways Hawke could be dead from his journey to Weisshaupt, and a million and one reasons why Hawke left without telling him. All the ones he focuses on are terrible things that make his stomach feel sick and tears prick in his eyes, and Fenris has never been weak but Andraste Fuck It All, Hawke makes him soft.

  
Varric would write him from untraceable locations, give him updates on Hawke, tell him about Cassandra and a boy named Cole and an elf named Lavellan and a girl named Sera and tells Fenris he’d like it here, wherever here was. Aveline got letters too, and he saw the letters on Carvers desk when he visited, discussed them over tea with Merrill and over Wicked Grace with Isabela. Varric told him that Hawke was thinking of him, and those words always left bitter bile rising in the bottom of his throat. Hawke never wrote.

  
The red favor leaves phantom burns on his wrist, but it feels wrong to take it off, feels like hes breaking the promise he’s so desperately held onto ever since he kissed Hawke quick and needy during and after the Kirkwall Rebellion. Love makes you do stupid things, especially when love pronounces his name as Hawke and leaves you having more than you could ever want, and yet. Right now he has nothing but a stupid piece of torn fabric around his wrist, and a heart searching for wherever it’s other half has hidden.

  
He doesn’t know how long he stays there, crouched over a dead fire, but he hears the snap of a twig behind him, and the crunch of heavy boots over dirt. He forces himself up, though his feet are lead and his lungs are cement, and he forces himself to stop thinking stupid, trivial things over a stupid, trivial man. ( _His mind screams he isn't trivial he isn't stupid he is everything he is sun and warmth and light you miss him you love him_ )

  
Fenris ducks behind the small alcove he has made camp under, holding the dagger sheathed to his leg close to his heartbeat and ready to be used shall it come to it. The crunch of leaves and dirt and twigs find its way into the alcove, and before a word could be said, Fenris has backed up the mysterious figure to a wall, dagger over his throat.  
“Fenris?”

  
His eyes snap up and his body goes rigid, but his hands are lose as he realises the utter weight of the situation, dagger falling limp from his open fingers, slicing against his leg on it’s way down. He pulls back in pain and shoves the figure in front of him as hard as he can, clamoring back and tearing a piece of cloth from the bottom of his untucked shirt to wrap around his newly bleeding wound until he can get a better look.

  
“ _Whatareyoudoinghere_?” He inquires, and it’s way too quick and needy and hasty, the words pouring from his lips like sour liquor, stinging and muddled and why isn't Hawke doing anything?

  
“Is it really you?” Hawke steps forward, then stops and stares like Fenris is a ghost, isn’t real, isn't huddled to a rock wall breathing too fast because everything is too fast and he’s so tired. Fenris scoffs, and kicks a rock with his foot, watching it skit across the small distance between them and land at the toe of Hawke’s boot.

  
“You left me,” He accuses, voice level and devoid of all emotion and he can’t tell if thats good or if it just scares him. He hears Hawke sit down more then he sees him, staring at his unsoled feet and the soft glow of torch light on speckled brown dirt. dares a glare at Hawke, but his gaze softens to quick for comfort, and his body and his heart and his feelings betray whatever it is his mind is telling him to do. Hawke’s eyes are dilated in surprise, still warm brown and crinkled at the edges with the memory of a smile. The port-wine stain still spreads across the middle of his nose and marks territory on his eyelid and creases on his under-eye. His bread has grown out some, and his hair is left dirt-ridden and falling in tangled waves across the pauldrons on his shoulders.

  
He’s breathtaking.

  
“Fenris I’m sorry-”

  
“Don’t say my name.”

  
Hawke intakes a shuddering breath, and Fenris darts his eyes away. If Hawke cries he cries, and he’s not supposed to be sad. He’s supposed to be angry. “Maker am I sorry I just didnt know how else to do it- If i let you come with you could have died, I watched a _friend_ die.” The What if it was you hangs unspoken in the hair, tensions building in the thick silence that has immersed them, only broken by apologies and sounds of snuffling tears from Hawke.

  
“I thought you had left me. That that was it, that was us, and there wasn’t anymore. I hadn’t seen you for the entire day and I thought you were avoiding me but it turns out, it fucking turns out that you left me with nothing but a letter in the hands of Sandal. Your things were gone, and the bed was cold, Yaromir was whining, Hawke.” Fenris has found his way to his feet, his markings glowing because he was fucking angry.

  
“And it’s absolutely stupid. Idiotic. You didn’t explain anything in your letter. I thought you could have died, can you even fathom the amount of relief that I felt when Varric sent his first letter?” Hawke looks struck, eyebrows drawn in pain and pity and sympathy and something else that Fenris couldn’t name. “I didn't even care that it wasn't from you, all i cared was that it said you were okay. And then Varric tells me you’ll write to me, and I never get a letter, nor a message or any sign that you were thinking of me you asshole.”

  
Hawke opens his mouth to speak, but Fenris glares him down, tugging Hawke up to his feet and crossing his arms lest else his hands betray his words and he finds his fingers skimming Hawke’s shoulders, Hawke’s cheeks, the deep red birthmark splashed across his cheeks like someone had stained wine on his face.

  
“When I heard what happened in the fade-” Fenris chokes himself up, takes a shaky breath. “Aveline, Carver and I were so scared, Hawke. Aveline found me on the way to the Gallows, and Carver didn’t even register us. Merrill and Isabela found us and we were devastated. You have a family Hawke. This Inquisition isn't your family, and Varric is only one peice of the puzzle, and you still-” He growls. “You still left all of us to go play Hero again.”

  
“It was wrong of me to do, I know. I should have explained things, should have written or sent favors or tokens or whatever have you but I didn’t. I was scared that you would be angry, and that Aveline and Carver would be angry, and that Merrill and Isabela would have finally given up hope on me. I was terrified of the consequences of my stupid decisions, and I let you hurt because I was too much of an arse to see through my own bullshit. Fenris, I truly am sorry. You don’t have to forgive me, maker knows I’d let me rot, but-”

  
Hawke backs down from Fenris, swallows in a sob that has risen in his throat. Fenris breathes, long and deep. He calms down. Count your blessings Fenris, for this is stall all you’ve ever wanted. "You cant expect to apologize for leaving me and expect everything to be fixed. It doesn't work like that, Hawke, you hurt me." Hawke winces like, he has been burned, and Fenris feels compelled to cradle his face, make him smile all happy and sunshine and loving. Instead, he opens his arms.

  
"Come here," Fenris sighs, and Hawke is utterly shocked, his eyebrows raised to the heavens, tears staining his eyes until the blood vessels have made them look red and puffy. Hawke clambers into his arms and Fenris' hands weave their way through his overgrown hair, rubbing circles over the shirt on his back. "I'm still hurt," he muses, adrenaline pumping from the surprise of today, tears still finding their way down soft cheeks.

  
"What does this mean for us?" Hawke has the audacity to ask, his usually sharp tongue pronouncing soft words in hushed whispers. "You travelled all this way, even after I left you. Comfort me in your arms even after I have hurt you." He gasps in a shuddering breath. "You wear that favor as though your life depends on it, and yet I have done nothing to earn your own favor." Fenris buries his nose in the junction between Hawke's shoulder and neck, willing Hawke not to feel the tears running down his skin.

  
"It means you are my husband, Garrett. Even if you are pigheaded and brash and run into things without thinking. Even if you leave and you hurt me. God knows I've hurt you just as much." He heaves a sigh. "There are things to mend between us, as there have always been and always will be. But make an effort and prove we are each other's-"

  
"Fenris."

  
"Maker knows I am already yours. I refuse to leave your side again, Garrett Hawke. Nothing on this world will be able to seperate us. We made these promises."

  
" _I am your protector, as you are mine_." Fenris braved a single smile as Hawke completed the sentence, pulled back and clasped Hawke's face between his heavy hands.  
His fingers traced the wine-stain mark across Hawke's face, searching Amber eyes and wrinkled lines, and then everything seemed okay again, even if only for a moment.  
Weisshaupt meant a million and one dangers that they faced, a million and one reasons for them to turn back, or to brave it without one another, to surge for protection. But there was a million and one reasons Fenris loved Hawke, and all the same vice versa. They would be okay.

  
With time, they would be okay.

  
"I am yours," Fenris said with fervor, the same time Garrett breathed out an "I love you."

**Author's Note:**

> UHH song title is from Silk by Wolf Alice
> 
> I really love these dudes,, I had this sitting in my drafts for a full year, originally from Hawke's POV, and then polished it up and made it about Fenris! (If anyone wants a Hawke pov tho... hmu in the comments.)  
> Honestly I self projected alot onto fenris and I am sorry for that I truly did mean for him to be happy.  
> Uh aNYWAYS comments and kudos are really appreciated!!


End file.
